


The Fool

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 02:49:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/793204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim gains some new insight while Blair is out of town.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fool

**Author's Note:**

> Previously published in Come To Your Senses 5. 

## The Fool

by J M Griffin

Author's disclaimer: I do not own them, but then when did you have to own something to love it? 

* * *

**THE FOOL**  
by J. M. Griffin 

Jim Ellison sat up in bed with a groan. The alarm had been going off at nine minute intervals for some time now and he just hadn't wanted to crawl out of bed. He reached over and smacked the offending alarm clock and flopped back on his pillow. A delicious scent rose up from the bed sheets and for a moment Jim let himself be enfolded in the aroma of his young lover. Then he groaned again. 

Blair would be gone for five days: today which was Wednesday, Thursday , Friday and the weekend. The anthropologist had a chance to go to a seminar in, of all places, Austin, Texas and Jim had given him (Blair had said it was a loan, but to Jim it was a gift) the extra funds he needed and had himself taken Blair to the airport. It wasn't their first separation since they had become lovers. Jim had spent a couple of weeks away at a police symposium up in Vancouver and several nights gone on various stake-outs. However, this was the first time _Blair_ had been away. And Jim hadn't realized how much it would effect him. 

Hell, Blair had only been gone one night. One bleak, boring night without Blair's incredible energy, his eagerness, his sweet smile and his rampant sexuality. Images of Blair nude, sprawled in their bed, his hair fanning out over the pillow flashed through Jim's brain... Shit! The big cop growled and flipped off the bed sheets and slipped out of bed. He was gonna have to start the day off with a cold shower if he kept up this line of thought. He stumped down the stair for a cup of coffee. Thank goodness he had remembered to set up the pot when he had gotten back from taking Blair to the airport last night. This wasn't a day to face without first having a strong cup of coffee. 

He plunked down at the table. Maybe there would be an interesting case breaking when he got to work today. He would need something really outrageous to keep his mind off of his partner. The thought made him smile. Blair loved being called his partner. Chuckling to himself, Jim recalled how hard he had resisted the term in the early days of their association. How he had resisted his own physical, okay, _sexual_ interest in the younger man. How he had wanted nothing more than to fuck his new Guide senseless. Instead, he'd concentrated on becoming a good Sentinel and tried to keep his hands off the irritating, irresistible man at his side. Blair was too much younger, too neo-hippy for Jim's taste, too blatantly hetero to approach. The detective snorted a laugh at how wrong he had been on all counts. 

Taking a last sip of coffee, Jim leaned back in his chair with a sigh. Something caught his eye. What was that tucked under the bowl of unshelled nuts in the center of the table? Perhaps a piece of paper? He grabbed it happily, thinking it might be a message left by Blair. What he grabbed turned out to be, not a note, but a playing card. Jim gave another sigh and stopped himself mid-breath. God, he was going to have to keep himself from doing that at work or people would start ragging him. Several of the officers at the station had voiced their suspicions about his relationship with Blair. And while he didn't really mind too much, there was no sense giving them fuel for the fire. Making sure not to sigh, Ellison headed back up stairs to get ready for work. 

On his way out the door twenty minutes later, Jim reached up to grab his coat off the hook. Conscious suddenly that Blair's jacket was not hanging beside his own, he paused. At just that moment the card lying on the table caught his eye again. Shrugging on his coat, Jim gave in to impulse and stepped over and picked up the playing card. Slipping it into the front pocket of his shirt, he headed off to work. 

* * *

A growl from his stomach caught Jim off guard and he took a moment to straighten up at his desk and rub the back of his neck. He had gotten his wish in part at least. While there had been no interesting case, he had been able to bury himself in some back paper work and not think of Blair too much. 

The door to the bull pen swung open and Henri Brown burst in carrying a little white dog. 

"Hey guys," Brown called out. "Look what I found in the hall." It didn't take long for half the officers there to gravitate over to Brown to pet the engaging little animal. Jim watched with a smile on his face. He loved dogs. To look at anyway, he'd never owned one. As a kid he'd always wanted a dog, a happy-go-lucky little creature like this. But his dad had been allergic to animals, therefore it had never even been up for discussion. Jim stood and pulled his coat off the back of his chair. He was heading out for lunch, so he let himself be drawn over to where Brown had just taken the pup back from Joel Taggart.. 

Jim held out his hand for the animal to sniff, then stroked its silky head. The silly thing pushed its snout into his palm and Jim found himself scratching behind its ears. 

"Gee, Ellison, I think he likes you." Brown quipped. 

Jim grinned, but didn't stop petting the dog. "No way, H. My place doesn't allow pets." Despite his words, he took the creature from Brown and it settled contentedly in his arms. It looked at him with mischievous eyes and nudged a wet nose at his chest. 

Just then Sarah Jordan from Vice stuck her head in the door. "I heard someone found my dog... Oh, there he is." The dark haired woman reached out for her pet and the pup wriggled in delight. Jim gave it over with the tiniest twinge of reluctance. 

"Sorry guys, it's a long story, but he's going home now. Thanks." Jordan flung over her shoulder as she went back out the door. 

Ellison brushed at the tiny smudge of dampness the dog's nose had left on his shirt and found his hand moved against the card in his breast pocket. As he went out the door he pulled the card out and took a look at it. The back had a pattern of interlocking Celtic rings. He flipped it over and stopped in his tracks. It wasn't an ordinary playing card at all, for on the face of it was the picture of a young man, a knapsack on his back and a flute in hand. And at his heels jumped a small white dog. 

Just then someone bumped into him from behind and the card flew out of Jim's hand. 

"Good grief, Jim, what are you doing standing in the middle of the hall?" Simon Banks all but bellowed. Jim bent down and retrieved the card and slipped it into his jacket pocket. Simon followed his movement with interest. "What's that Jim, picture of an old lover? I thought Blair and you were..." 

"Don't say it, Simon." Jim warned with a raised hand and a shake of his head. 

"Then you'll have to buy my silence with lunch," his friend grinned. Jim knew when he'd been bested and took his captain to lunch. 

"Jim, Jim." 

Ellison jerked to awareness, sandwich poised before his mouth 

"Well, your mind is far away. In Austin, Texas, I imagine." Banks leered. 

"Sorry, Simon..." Jim trailed off, at a loss for words. 

The captain laughed, "You got it bad, you know, worse than when you first started living with Carolyn. I find myself hesitating when I pick up the phone to call you at home. Never know what I might be interrupting. Like calling a couple of newlyweds." 

Jim blushed. "Simon..." 

"Don't you "Simon" me, Ellison. You know the old saying, if you can't stand the heat stay out of the kitchen." Banks laughed again at Jim's discomfiture. "Come on and finish up. Some of us have work to do." 

A long, boring afternoon followed. It was good to have this type of day on occasion or paper work would never get done, but no one liked them. Jim headed home hoping tomorrow would have a little more excitement. It would keep his mind off certain things. 

He watched a ball game, thought about calling Blair. Even picked up the phone a time or two even, but never dialed. The kid deserved some space. He was probably out with the group tonight anyway. Out having fun. Jim just hoped he wasn't having _too_ much fun. No, no, he knew Blair had no intentions of screwing around. They were committed to each other. Still, the house was too quiet. It made Jim antsy. 

Finally, he gave up and headed for bed, but sleep wouldn't come. Thoughts of Blair wafted over him. It had to be the smell from the sheets. They had only been changed a few days ago, but they held the faint scent of goodbye lovemaking and a hint of ... just plain Blair. That alone brought him half erect. Jim's hands moved down to his cock, and, thinking all the while of Blair's hands on him -- Blair's strong, capable, talented hands, his long fingers wrapped firmly round his cock... Jim came with a cry of his absent lover's name. 

* * *

After a time, he stretched his hand over to Blair's side of the bed and tugged the pillowcase off the other man's pillow, planning to use it to mop himself off. (Knowing Blair would be aghast by such behavior from his "neatnick" partner.) Unexpectedly, Jim's hand brushed a piece of paper tucked under the pillow. He pulled it out, noting it was obviously torn from one of Blair's many spiral notebooks. 

The paper read: 

Fool that I am  
I would do it all again.  
I would take the leap.  
I would go through the valleys and climb the peaks.  
I would embrace the sweet pain, the fierce joy,  
Because every moment is rough magic. 

Yes, I would do it all again   
And gladly. 

It was in Blair's small crabbed handwriting and Jim wondered if the younger man had written it himself or copied it from somewhere else. It didn't really matter. Either way, Jim understood exactly what the words were saying. Before long he fell asleep - the crumpled paper still clutched in his hand. 

* * *

Like the night before, the next day got off to a slow start, but everything changed at ten a.m. when Simon bellowed "Ellison!" from his office. 

Then they were off and running to a crime scene: a hostage situation with an angry worker and a terrified boss. It all went down fairly quickly, one of those few times when everything happened right in a situation that could be deadly. Even so, a few shots were fired. One went ripping through the sleeve of Ellison's jacket, but didn't reach skin. No big deal. 

Jim watched at the man was being led away in cuffs. Just a kid really, but one with a major grudge with the system. He was turning toward his truck when Simon stopped him. 

"Jim, you better get that looked at." He said indicating Jim's arm. 

Jim shrugged him off, "It's nothing, just a hole in my sleeve. The bullet didn't touch me." 

"Are you sure? It certainly flung you back a couple of steps. I thought for sure you'd been shot." Simon came over to take a closer look. 

Jim slid down his jacket to show Simon and something fluttered to the floor. 

"What's this?" Simon asked as he bent down to retrieve it. Jim was surprised to see the odd card in the black man's hand. 

"Oh that? Just something I found." 

Simon peered closely at the card. "A tarot card?" 

"Yeah, I think so. I picked it off the table the other day. I think maybe Naomi left it when she visited a few weeks ago." 

"Is this what I saw you with yesterday? Why are you carrying it around?" 

Before Jim could answer someone signaled to them and Simon returned the card before striding back to the crime scene. Jim hastily put the card away. Still, as he hurried to catch up, he found himself wondering that very same thing. 

* * *

He got home to Blair's voice in the apartment. 

"Jim, Jim, you there? Pick up if you're there!" 

Blair's voice sounded anxious and Jim hurried to grab the phone. 

"Blair, I'm here. What's up, Chief?" 

"Nothing. I mean, _I'm_ fine. It's just... What's up with you, man? Just a while ago I got the weirdest feeling. Like something was wrong with you. Are you _sure_ you're okay!?" 

Jim felt a chill run down his spine at Blair's intuitiveness. "I'm okay, sweetheart. I was in danger a while ago. But I'm fine now. Gotta buy a new brown leather jacket though." He groused, making light of the whole situation. 

Blair would have none of it. "Jim! Damn it, Jim, you were shot at or something, weren't you? I just knew it, man!" 

"Blair, baby, I'm okay. I promise. How are you? How's Austin?" 

"Man, it is so hot here you wouldn't believe. It's only March and it's like eighty-five degrees here." 

Jim listened happily as Blair jabbered on. Damn, he missed the kid. Missed the way the younger man filled up his life like nothing else ever had. He knew Blair was of the mind that his own job was boring and Jim's world was the exciting one., but Jim knew it was the other way around. Life with Blair Sandburg was anything but a bore. 

The next morning, Jim switched jackets, but even though he was running late, he took the time to retrieve the card from the pocket of his brown coat. He looked briefly at the picture as he hurried out the door. The figure had curly dark hair, about shoulder length. It was hard to tell if it was a man or a woman, but he or she was young. Kind of reminded him of Blair, Jim thought absently as he stuffed it into the breast pocket of his thick flannel shirt-jacket and jumped into his Ford. 

Work that day was non-stop madness. Jim barely grabbed lunch and worked well past supper. It was just one thing after another, the usual grit and grime of police work. Driving home it started to rain, a steady, cold drizzle and Jim turned the heater on. He was almost home and coming up to an intersection when it happened. A little voice in his head (from some defensive driving course they made cops take from time to time) reminded him to watch for "stale" green lights. So for once he slowed down and, sure enough, some idiot ran the red. Jim barely had time to jam on the brakes. He missed the other car, but his wheels hydroplaned and he found the Expedition sliding out of his control. He stopped with the thud of his front bumper against a fire hydrant. No damage done, but his heart was racing and his head spinning. He put a hand to his chest and felt the card there in the outer breast pocket. 

Funny, he hadn't given it a thought all day. He had intended to pull it out and really look a it. He could vaguely remember it had a number and some words on it. With a shrug he patted his pocket, started up the truck and made his way home uneventfully. 

Blair had left him a message, worried at first, but then all sweetness and sex, and it made Jim ache to get his hands on his lover. Tomorrow was Saturday and originally his day off, but he had promised to cover for Brown who had a wedding to go to in the early afternoon.. Still, Jim was off Sunday. Blair would be coming in Sunday night and next week was spring break at the university. If everything went as planned, they would have Monday to themselves. And maybe more if Jim could work things to his liking. If he couldn't swap with Brown, a few people owed him a favor or two. He'd just have to call on them and... He fell asleep working on plans for his and Blair's time together next week. 

The phone woke him from a sound sleep. 

"Jim?" 

"Yeah, babe?" 

"Did I wake you?" 

"Yeah, what time is it anyway?" 

"Three a.m., your time." Blair sounded a bit unsteady, subdued. 

"Blair baby, you okay?" Jim wanted to ask "Have you been drinking?" but he held back. 

"Yes, I'm okay. I just couldn't get you out of my head all evening. I kept worrying something bad was gonna happen to you. But you must be okay, cause I'm talking to you. I really, really miss you, man..." Blair gave a small rueful laugh. "Sorry to wake you from a sound sleep just to tell you that, big guy." 

"Music to my ears, Chief. You can wake me any time and tell me that. I miss you too. And Blair..." 

"Yes?" 

//Leap,// Jim thought to himself, fingering the paper with the bit of poetry on it. //Take the leap, Ellison.// 

"I love you." 

There was a catch in Blair's voice, "I love you too, Jim." 

* * *

The squad room was unusually quiet on Saturday morning. Quiet before the storm, Jim thought as he settled in at his desk. It wasn't two minutes later that Simon was there, dumping a file on his desk. 

"I'd like to know what you make of this. Hell, what I'd really like to know is what Blair would make of it." Simon gave a grudging smile. "He's the one who understands these kid's sub-cultures." 

Jim laughed. "I'll be sure to tell him you said so." He glanced briefly at the pictures in the file - a murder victim with body piercing in an unusual, as well as distinctive, pattern. He knew in a heart beat he hadn't a clue on this one. 

"Blair will be back on Tuesday," Jim supplied helpfully. 

"Tuesday?" Simon's eyes narrowed behind his glasses. "I thought Blair said he'd be back Sunday night." 

"But he won't be _here_ til Tuesday." Jim returned. "And..." 

"No, don't tell me," Simon held up a hand to cut Jim off, "you want the day off Monday." The captain huffed out a sigh of resignation. "Okay, okay, you got it. Just make sure..." Simon gave his best detective the evil eye. " _Make sure_ both of you are ready and able to work your butts off Tuesday morning." 

Jim thought of several flippant retorts he ached to make concerning the condition of his and Blair's respective butts on Tuesday morning, but wisely said only, "Yes, Captain." 

Simon gave Jim a suspicious look, as if he knew the unspoken thoughts rattling around in his subordinate's brain, and walked away shaking his head in mock disgust. 

Ellison sat down and got back to work, but it was some time before he could wipe the smile off his face. 

By mid afternoon Jim's brain was fried, probably because he had skipped lunch to finish up every last bit of paper work. If he was going to take Monday off (and, if he had his way, Tuesday too), he wanted to have everything tidy. He stood and stretched, rolling stiff shoulders and wishing Blair was coming home tonight. He could use a good back rub. With one last stretch, Jim grabbed his jacket, deciding he'd get a bite to eat, then head over to the part of town where the John Doe with the body piercings had been found. 

Strange that the young man hadn't been identified. Jim had gone to view the body not long after Simon had dropped him the file. The victim had been in his early twenties, with short blonde hair and a mustache. It was hard to tell, but he might have been very good looking once. Someone's lover, brother, son. It didn't seem right no one had turned up to claim him. 

The site where the body was found was in an area of Cascade Jim didn't know very well, so as soon as he'd grabbed a burger, he pulled out his street map. Even then he had to really search for the street, surprised when he found it held a string of artsy-type stores. An herb emporium, a new age book store and a crystal and rock shop were all lined up together. 

Jim looked in the alley behind the herb emporium first, as that was where the man had been found, but it had been too many days and the scents from the shop made his nose itch and fouled his concentration. It was times like these he wished Blair could always be with him on the job. He needed his Guide by his side all the time when he was working, but that wasn't fair to Blair. The grad student had a life of his own, not to mention work of his own, and Jim knew it was best that way. Sometimes he was just jealous (hard to admit) and sometimes he just needed (wanted) Blair at his side at all times. 

Jim grinned ruefully to himself. The ache of Blair being away rose up in his chest and throat and he gave a kind of shudder, trying hard to get a grip on it. It wasn't a sexual thing, more physical, or maybe even spiritual, though Jim didn't delve into that aspect of his life too often. Everything just seemed so hollow without Blair around; he wondered how he had ever lived without his lover, friend and Guide. He knew suddenly that while he had managed to live a full life without Blair, he himself had never truly been whole. Blair completed him... Blair... 

Out of the corner of his eye, Jim saw a young man pause and peer into the alley for a moment, then walk on. For an instant Jim thought it had been Blair and he ran to the top of the alley and looked around the corner and down the sidewalk the way the man had gone. No one was there. The street was deserted too. Jim shrugged his shoulders. Who knew who it had been? He had been thinking so hard on Blair; it was as if he had conjured him up. 

With a shake of his head, Jim headed down the sidewalk toward where he had left his Expedition. He slowed as he walked past the new age bookstore. In the window there was a display of several different books on the tarot, with a deck of cards spilled artfully here and there. Jim stopped and looked among the array for the card he had in his pocket. He pulled the card out and took a good look. 0 THE FOOL, it read. 

Once again Jim was struck by how much the figure made him think of Blair. With the face in profile it was hard to say who it might be, but the stance of the figure, chin up, gleaming eyes focused on the horizon and thus stepping blithely off into nothingness, now _that_ was Blair through and through. Well, maybe not Blair all the time, but Blair at his best, Blair at his truest, Blair at his most awesome - leaping into life and love. 

"May I help you?" 

Jim blinked to find he had entered the store and was standing in front of a book case filled with books: Tarot Games, Intuitive Tarot, Tarot Unveiled... "Oh, no thanks. I think I 've found what I'm looking for." Almost of its own accord his hand reached up and he pulled down the book Tarot Unveiled: The Method to its Magic by Laura A. Clarson. It practically fell open in his hand and Jim found himself reading. 

"...he is youthful and childlike. He is exuberant in his willingness to take chances, and experiences life with a naive optimism. He does not linger long in any one experience. He prefers to live in the moment and enjoy the here and now. For this reason, he may prefer the lifestyle of the vagabond or wanderer, avoiding responsibility for his actions. He chooses to remain aloof from the entrapping games of society. He may back away from situations involving depth and intensity. He is inexperienced, but relies on his instincts and intuitions to protect him. Without further awareness, the fool would be merely content to skim the surface of life." 

Jim fumbled the book and when he looked at it again he was on a different page. 

"The Hermit holds the lamp of wisdom to guide others to greater awareness." Ellison was surprised to find he had read the words aloud. 

"The Fool at the end of his journey," the sales woman remarked. She had only gone a step or two away and she watched him with her round, laughing eyes. "May I see the card you hold?" Her voice was gentle, but full of strength. Jim found himself handing her the card without hesitation. 

"Hmmm," she remarked, "not from a deck I know, and. believe me, I know quite a few of them. It might even be hand inked. A remarkable thing." She looked up at Jim, her brown eyes intense. "I suggest you hold on to him." She said firmly. And somehow Jim knew she wasn't talking about the card. 

He went home then and immediately picked up the phone and dialed Blair's hotel. 

"Jim, Jim..." Blair's voice was high and excited. "I went to the coolest book store today. It was called "The Book People. Oh, man, its, like, a four story building. The poetry section was awesome to behold -- all the new stuff. And the new age section is an entire floor. My mom would love it. You'd love it too, cause you could sit in the coffee shop on the bottom floor while I browsed." Blair's laugh came clear and sparkling over the distance. Jim let it wash over him and soothe away the intense loneliness he was feeling. 

"Sounds great, Chief," he let some of his own joy at hearing Blair's voice color his response. He listened while Blair talked on, floating on the energy in the voice so many miles away, finding he could hardly wait for that energy to come in contact with him in person. Just twenty four hours more, he reminded himself. 

"I'll be home soon...." Blair was saying. "Just twenty four hours more. I'm having a great time. But at night, alone in this hotel bed..." Blair's word slowed and his voice choked up a bit. 

"Me too, Babe." Jim said softly. "This place isn't home without you." 

"But Jim, it's _your_ place." Blair commented in surprise. 

"Maybe so, but isn't _home_ with out you here." 

There was silence from the other end, but Jim wasn't worried. It was as if he could hear Blair's mind racing, taking in his words, mulling them over. 

Finally, "I can't wait to be home, Jim." 

"Hurry." He knew it was a silly thing to say, but it was the only response the Sentinel could give. 

* * *

By four o clock Sunday afternoon, Jim had everything ready. The loft was spotless (not that Blair would care.) Every thing was chopped and covered, waiting to be throw in the wok when they got back from the airport. (If they took the time to eat at all before...) The fridge was stocked with all the stuff Blair liked so they wouldn't have to waste any time shopping on Monday (or Tuesday). Jim knew it was too early to leave, but he was so stir crazy he decided it would be just as easy to wait at the airport. He had slipped on his jacket and was almost out the door when the phone rang. 

"Jim? This is Naomi. Is Blair around?" 

"No," Jim said to Blair's globe-hopping mom. "Actually, he's been in Austin, Texas at a seminar this week. I was just leaving to pick him up at the airport." 

"Oh, then I won't keep you. Just tell him I called, please. And Jim, well, you probably won't have a clue, but I think I left something at the loft when I visited a few weeks ago. Has Blair mentioned anything?" 

Jim slipped his hand into his jacket pocket and felt the crisp edges of the card and answered truthfully. "No, Naomi he hasn't. But I'll be sure to ask him when he gets home. Where can he reach you?" 

"Oh, I'm in Colorado visiting Goldie. I'll call him in a few days. It's nothing terribly important. You two take care of each other, okay?" 

"We will, Naomi, you can be sure of that. Thanks for calling." 

Jim put the phone down and dragged the card out of his pocket. It must be what Naomi was talking about. It wasn't that he intended to keep it. He simply didn't want to give it up just yet. Somehow the card had protected him while Blair was gone. Or maybe it had simply opened his eyes to a few things he might not have seen by himself. 

Once again Jim inspected the card carefully. The figure did look remarkably like Blair. Had Naomi seen the resemblance when she bought the deck? Or, the thought occurred to Jim, had she had it especially made to look like her son? Well, whatever the case, he would make sure it got back to her. He just wanted time to show it to Blair first and get his take on it. Jim slid the card into his jacket pocket and went to retrieve his keys from the basket by the door. 

On the way to the airport, he couldn't stop grinning. Which one of them was the bigger fool: Blair, for his innocent and seemingly haphazard approach to life, or himself for taking the leap and loving Blair so much? 

//I'm a fool for love,// he thought with a grin and whistled the rest of the way to the airport. 

**FINIS**

* * *

End The Fool. 


End file.
